Pieces of Always
by SeriesTherapy
Summary: Collection of one-shots. "The blinking cursor stared at him from his computer screen, mocking him. Every time it appeared felt like an order. Write, write, write… The blank page on the notebook next to him wasn't helping, either. He liked to have it close by, so he could switch back to pen and paper if he was in a more traditional mood."
1. Cell Background

_Hi, everyone! I've decided to start a collection to post my one-shot stories. I hope you like them._

 _I'm not a very experienced writer, so any suggestion or review would be highly appreciated :)_

* * *

 **Cell Background**

 _idea from a Tumblr prompt_

When Castle set foot that morning in the homicide floor of the 12th precinct, two coffees in hand, it was like entering a ghost town. The bullpen was practically empty, surely due to the early hour. He couldn't see Kate Beckett anywhere, which, under normal circumstances, would have worried him, or at least disappointed him. But when he spotted her cell phone resting atop her desk, he realized that she couldn't have gone very far.

The absence of the gym bag the detective always kept under the desk gave him a clue on her whereabouts. If Beckett was working out in the gym, that gave him a window of at least ten or fifteen minutes to take advantage of the situation. It wasn't frequent that the detective left her phone behind. Wherever she was, she always had it on and within reach, constantly alert of new developments in her cases. But the rare times she forgot the device, Castle sprinted into action.

Over the last three years, he had managed to prank her several times. The first time he'd messed with her phone, he had changed his own ID photo, so every time he called her, his smirking face would appear on the screen, surrounded by a glittering heart and the words "KB+RC 4EVER." The next time she'd left her phone unattended, he had filled her calendar app with silly reminders and alerts, like "Tell Castle how ruggedly handsome he was today" or "Wear a provocative dress to work tomorrow."

But Castle's favorite, hands down, was the time when he changed all of her ringtones, which had produced a hilarious scene at the precinct when Gates called Beckett by mistake. From her office, the captain was able to hear that the ringtone greeting her call on Kate's phone was the "Imperial March" from Star Wars. Kate still hadn't forgiven Castle for that one.

Thinking quickly of what his newest prank should be, Castle reached for Beckett's phone, setting the tray with the coffees next to her computer. He tapped the phone's home button, and the screen instantly lit up, demanding that he enter the correct password. Beckett thought she was very clever, changing the combination on a regular basis. He felt actually offended by the fact that, after almost four years of shadowing her, Beckett still doubted his observational skills. Castle knew all of her passwords by heart. That might seem semi-stalkery, or at the very least creepy, to someone else. However, to Castle, it was as natural as breathing. It was an ability that came in handy in moments like this one.

Scanning the bullpen to make sure the coast was clear, he typed in the password. His mission was to switch his phone number with Lanie's in her contact list, so when Kate called her friend, she would actually be calling Castle, and vice versa. He figured it wouldn't take long for Beckett to notice the change, but he could have fun in the meantime.

Too busy focusing on the possibilities this prank would entail, Castle almost missed the picture Beckett had selected for the cell phone's background. Almost. What he saw nearly weakened his resolve to tamper with her phone. A picture of the two of them- Kate and him- was displayed proudly on the phone's background. The moment he saw it, his breath hitched in his throat. It was a candid shot of them taken at the Old Haunt, and he realized as he studied it that he had never seen it before. Kate was perched on a stool by the bar, and Castle was standing next to her, his whole body oriented towards her, and his eyes were twinkling with mischief. He didn't notice those details at first, though. The first thing his brain registered was the joy and happiness Kate exuded in the picture. Whoever took it captured Kate in one of her "Castle moments," as he liked to call them. In between a laugh and an eye roll, Kate was clearly amused by whatever Castle was saying. Judging by the way her lips were pursed, the corners of her mouth turned up and her eyes crinkling with laughter, she was trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile. The image showed the kind of intimacy Castle longed for, and it overwhelmed him.

Without thinking about what he was doing, he launched the photo gallery app, scrolling quickly through the rest of the images without looking at them until he found the one he was looking for. The details of the shot revealed that Lanie had been the one to take the picture.

Without missing a beat, he sent the file to his own cell phone. As soon as he was finished, he locked the device and put it down. No sooner had he placed the phone back in its original position on the desk than he heard a voice behind him, barking his name. "Castle!" He flinched, intimidated by the harsh tone in her voice. "What were you doing with my phone?"

He turned around quickly, finding Kate Beckett standing behind him, her hair still damp from the shower and the gym bag hanging from her shoulder.

"Nothing! I didn't do anything this time, I promise!"

"You'd better not have done anything," she answered, clearly unconvinced, as she sat down in her chair and reached out for the coffee he had let on the desk.

Kate took a sip from the cup, glancing at Castle out of the corner of her eye. It was almost as if she was studying him, searching for some sign of what he had done this time. Castle couldn't help the stupid grin that blossomed on his face as he looked back at her. It stayed there for the rest of the day.

* * *

Hours later, in the quietness of her apartment, Kate suddenly remembered the phone incident. She hadn't noticed anything weird with the device, but one couldn't be cautious enough when Castle was involved. Worried about what the writer could have done this time, she went through all her contacts-pictures and ringtones included- followed by her calendar and her alarms. But it wasn't until she opened her recent message list that she found out what he had done.

There, on the top of the list, was Castle's name. Kate's heart started pounding furiously when she saw the image attached to the message. She hadn't even thought about her background image when she was searching for clues about what her partner could have tampered with. She knew that it was risky, because it could start a conversation she wasn't ready to have yet, but in the end, she couldn't refrain from sending Castle a text letting him know he had been busted.

 _Nice pic, right?_

His reply made her smile.

 _It's my new cell background._

* * *

 _ **Tumblr** : seriestherapy_

 _ **Twitter** : SeriesTherapy_


	2. Sleeping Arrangements

_Reposted story from my other profile. If you've already read this, I'm sorry! I wanted to have all my original fics in this profile. This is the first story I ever wrote._

* * *

 **Sleeping Arrangements**

 _Set after episode 5x03, but before 5x04_

 _This is going to be fun_ , Castle thinks.

He's not quite sure how it happened, but the whole team is now sharing a tiny hotel room in a small town in upstate New York. Well, actually, he _does_ know how it happened. A chain of circumstances led them to this moment.

They'd found a woman's body in an alley the previous day. Later, the financials of their young victim suggested that she had a second job in a catering company. Upon further investigation, they discovered that the company in question had catered for a wedding reception in the town where they're currently stuck. That fact, in itself, is just a coincidence, but Lanie's latest report suggests that the victim was poisoned at the event– an event with over three hundred people in attendance. Of course, there was no way they'd be able to conduct an investigation involving that many potential witnesses from New York. They'd left the city this morning and made the three-hour trip to this small town.

Now, they have to interview the victim's co-workers, along with all of the potential witnesses. This afternoon and evening, they had been able to speak to almost one hundred people. That was a good start, but there are still about two hundred people they still need to speak with, and it's too late to interview any more today. They'll have to conduct the rest of the interviews tomorrow morning. The problem is that they are very far from New York, so it's not practical to drive back to the city tonight. They'd only be able to sleep for approximately four hours before they would have to return back here in the morning.

Luckily, there's a little bed and breakfast in town, but unfortunately, as cliché as it seems, there's only one room available for the four of them to share. On the bright side, the owners were able to come up with a couple of spare beds. It won't be the most comfortable arrangement, but given that their alternative is a six-hour car trip, or even sleeping in the car tonight, they'll take the room.

Once they've brought their things into the room, the guys strip down to their undershirts and boxers (apparently, none of them thought to bring pajamas), while Beckett changes in the bathroom. As soon as the men are changed, they look around the room, studying its contents. The large double bed stands in one side of the room, and the cots are pushed up against the wall at its feet, with only about a foot of space between the edge of the bed and the cots. Castle watches as Ryan and Esposito take in their surroundings. The two men look at each other and immediately begin arguing about the night's sleeping arrangements.

They truly are quite a sight: Ryan and Esposito standing in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but their underwear and surrounded by beds, like that old movie from the Marx brothers. What really completes the picture is watching the two men argue in whispers, in order to avoid being overheard by Beckett.

Taking advantage of the fact that Ryan and Esposito are too busy arguing to pay any attention to him, Castle slides into the double bed and settles back against the headboard. He folds his hands behind his head, and a sly grin appears on his face as he watches the argument unfolding.

What they don't know is that he and Beckett have been together for more than two months; ever since her suspension. She's been back at the precinct for three weeks now, but they still haven't told anyone that they're dating, out of fear of Gates finding out and kicking Castle off the team.

"Bro, what do you think you're doing?" Esposito's voice brings him back to reality. "Get out of that bed."

"Why do you care? Weren't you just saying that you didn't want to share a bed with anyone?" Castle replies. "So pick one of the small ones."

"Wait. If he sleeps in an individual bed, where will Beckett sleep?" Ryan inquires, a troubled expression on his face.

"I don't mind making room for her," Castle suggests mischievously.

"I don't know, Castle– I don't feel right about making Beckett share a bed with you," Ryan says.

"Would you rather make her sleep in a fold up bed?" Castle knows he's not playing fair, but he couldn't care less. Seeing Ryan's overly-worried gaze and Espo's exasperation is extremely amusing.

"I'm just saying, Beckett is old enough to decide where she wants to sleep," Ryan replies, always the gentleman.

Esposito nods in agreement, and Castle decides to take this a step further. "If you let Beckett decide, one of us is going to end up sleeping on the floor", he states calmly. "Which is not very comfortable, considering there's barely any space left."

Both cops look around, pondering the situation. It's true that there's no room on the floor after bringing the two spare beds, and it's also true that they should let Beckett decide. But teasing the boys like this is much more fun, especially knowing what her decision will be. They'll sleep together, like they've been doing practically every night for the last three months.

"Really, I don't see the problem in Beckett sharing a bed with one of you," Esposito affirms.

"Why one of us? Why not with you?" his partner asks.

"Bro, I already told you that I'm sleeping alone. She can sleep with you. Problem solved."

"Are you insane? I'm a married man."

"So?"

"So, I'm not going to sleep in the same bed as another woman," Ryan replies. "Besides, Beckett has a boyfriend, or did you forget?"

Castle follows their discussion like it was a tennis match. _This is so much better than TV,_ he thinks.

"But she's like your sister! It doesn't count!" adds Esposito.

"Is that so? You share a bed with her, then!"

"Guys, I don't care where you sleep, but I'm not moving," Castle intervenes. "Those beds are tiny, and they seem very uncomfortable. I'm sure they'd be bad for my back, so I'm staying right here."

Ryan doesn't seem to have heard him, and suggests that himself and Esposito share the double bed.

"I'm not telling you again, I won't sleep with any of you", Esposito states adamantly.

"But we're not letting her sleep with Castle!" Ryan fires back.

"They're grown ups, they'd better get over it."

"But he's not just any guy, he's _Castle_!"

"So you sleep with him!"

"And we leave the fold up bed for Beckett?"

They've been gradually raising their voices over the course of their argument, to the point that they're almost yelling at each other now, going through the same points over and over again. Castle has to make real efforts to hold back his laughter as the argument escalates.

In that moment, the bathroom door flies open, causing Ryan and Esposito to fall silent. As soon as they see Beckett, their eyes widen, and Castle could swear that he sees their jaws bouncing against the floor. When he turns to look at Beckett, the expression that suddenly makes its way across his face could match that of the two detectives.

Beckett is striding out of the bathroom _wearing only his shirt_. Without a moment's hesitation, Kate closes the distance between them, pulls back the sheets on the double bed, and climbs into the bed beside him. And then, to the boys' astonishment (and Castle's delight), she plants a kiss on his lips and snuggles into his chest.

"Good night, babe," she says.

She seems very calm, but the smirk forming on her lips gives her away: she's heard their argument and has done this on purpose to tease the guys.

As Castle gazes lovingly at his girlfriend snuggled against him, wearing his clothes and not at all worried about the fact that their two closest friends are with them in the room, he can't help but think two things; one, he's the luckiest guy in the world, and two, keeping their relationship a secret over the past couple of months was worth it just to see the awestruck expressions on their friends' faces.

* * *

 _ **Tumblr** : seriestherapy_

 _ **Twitter** : SeriesTherapy_


	3. Unlocked

**Unlocked**

It's been two days since Castle last saw Kate. Forty-eight long hours have passed by without talking to her; without holding her in his arms. He's used to seeing his girlfriend daily, but between his meetings at Black Pawn and a hard case that's kept Beckett busy for the last few days, Castle hasn't seen her since Monday morning, and today is Wednesday.

Castle has yet another meeting tomorrow, and Beckett's case will undoubtedly not be finished yet, but he can't stand to go another minute without seeing her, let alone an entire day. So he decides to show up at her apartment that evening to surprise her, bringing a bottle of wine, a single red rose and a smile. But when he knocks at the door, she doesn't answer. Frowning, he reaches for his phone, but he pockets it again after his two phone calls go unanswered.

Beckett must not be home for the evening yet. Maybe he should have called before he came, to make sure that he didn't waste a trip to her apartment. Supposing there's no harm in trying once more before he goes back home, he brings his fist to the door one last time, pressing his ear against it after he knocks to focus on listening to the noises, or lack thereof, inside the apartment. After a moment, he can hear distant footsteps, and seconds later, the door opens to reveal Kate Beckett clad in a bathrobe, with her hair dripping and her skin still damp.

They've been together for the better part of four months, but watching Kate light up the moment she sees him, knowing that he's the reason for her joy, still leaves him breathless.

"Hi," he greets her. "Is it a bad time?"

"No, come in," she answers, giving him a sweet kiss as she takes the rose he extends for her. Beaming, she gestures for him to come inside the apartment. "I was taking a bath."

"Great! Can I join you?" he asks, raising his eyebrows in a seductive manner. Or at least, that's what he's aiming for.

"Too late, Castle. Next time," she throws over her shoulder on her way to her bedroom.

While Kate goes to change, Castle heads for the kitchen, pulling two wine glasses from one of the cabinets so that he can serve the wine. The fact that he is comfortable enough with his girlfriend's kitchen to know where her wine glasses are stored fills him with pride, as does the fact that he's actually able to call Kate his girlfriend, even if it's only in his mind. After all, aside from their closest relatives, only Lanie, Ryan, and Esposito are aware of their relationship. If he could, he would plaster huge posters all over the city proclaiming their relationship status, and he would even spend a fortune to place a glowing announcement in Times Square. Unfortunately, his relationship with Kate has to remain a secret to almost everyone, due to NYPD regulations about coworkers dating. He knows Kate's career is important to her, and he can't risk being kicked out of the precinct, not to mention Kate losing her job. It's not a situation that they can maintain long-term, but it works for now.

Before his imagination can run any wilder, Kate rejoins him in the kitchen, wearing yoga pants and a red t-shirt that Castle could swear disappeared from his closet a couple of years ago. He extends one of the wine glasses to her, and they both get comfortable on the couch, side by side, facing each other.

"You know?" Castle starts. "Next time, you could warn me when you're about to take a bath. That way, I can join you in the bathtub, and we can save water. And the neighbors wouldn't threaten me with calling the cops if I don't stop pounding on your door."

"I didn't know you were coming," she shrugs.

"I wanted to surprise you! I've missed you. It's been two days since we last saw each other," he whines, with an exaggerated pout.

"We've been apart for longer than that before," she reminds him in a soft voice, running a hand through his hair in a sweet gesture.

"I know, and it wasn't fun," Castle mumbles.

At his comment, Kate lowers her head, with a serious and almost ashamed look in her eyes. Castle regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth. They've never spoken about the summer they spent apart after her shooting. He now understands her reasons for wanting to be alone, away from the city, but it doesn't make the memory any less painful. However, it wasn't his intention to put a damper in their mood, so, with a chipper tone, he goes on, hoping that Kate will forget his comment.

"Anyway, I'm not letting it happen again. So I'm instituting a new rule for us to follow from now on: no more than twelve hours apart."

"Twelve hours?" she chuckles, meeting his eyes again.

"It's non-negotiable. I'm being generous here. I won't spend one more day away from you, Kate. I'm always going to be here, so if you have a problem with that, you'd better say so now," he assures her.

"Are you serious?" she whispers.

"Deadly serious. It's my last offer. Take it or leave it."

Kate stares at him for a moment, and then, without a single word, she rises from the couch and makes her way towards her bedroom.

"Um, Kate?" Castle calls, suddenly insecure. "I didn't mean it. I didn't want to smother you. It's just that I think that our relationship is going pretty well, and… I mean, I like to spend time with you, but if you feel like I'm being too clingy, you can…"

He trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished, as soon as he sees Beckett reappear in the living room, a nervous expression on her face as she fiddles with something that she holds in her hands. He can't tell what it is from his seat on the couch, but it's small, and as she moves it through her fingers, the light reflects off of it, glinting off of the walls.

She sits back next to Castle and, shyly, without looking him in the eye, puts the object in the palm of his hand.

Looking down, Castle sees it's a key.

"Next time, let yourself in," she says, keeping her eyes averted to her lap.

She tries to act nonchalant about it, but it's all that is: an act. He can see the undercurrent of shyness and uneasiness that comes with her words. It's in her eyes, too, but when she looks up at him, he catches a glimpse of something more for just a second- something very close to raw affection and another feeling that they haven't worded yet. At least, she hasn't.

When he closes his fist around the shiny new key, Castle has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from setting free the three words that he longs to say to her. The last time he allowed himself to say the words aloud, they were spoken to a woman who was dying; a woman whom he thought would never get the chance to hear those words again. They seem almost sacred now; as though speaking them again will transport them back to that moment, to a time when he thought he would never see her again.

His eyes meet Kate's, and he knows that even if neither of them says it, they both feel it. And that's enough.

He doesn't have the words, but he has the key. Her key.

* * *

 _ **Tumblr** : seriestherapy_

 _Twitter: SeriesTherapy_


	4. The Blue Notebook

**The Blue Notebook**

The blinking cursor stared at him from his computer screen, mocking him. Every time it appeared felt like an order. _Write, write, write…_ The blank page on the notebook next to him wasn't helping, either. He liked to have it close by, so he could switch back to pen and paper if he was in a more traditional mood.

Castle had been racking his brain for days trying to come up with something, _anything_ , that could help him make some progress on his latest book. Writer's block was generally a battle he could win easily- after a good amount of goofing off and procrastinating, of course- but this time, the war had been going on far too long, and unfortunately, Castle was losing. One entire week had passed without writing a single word. Usually, that was the time he allowed himself before going to plan B, which consisted of… more writing.

He was a writer. He needed to write; needed that rush that came when the words began to piece themselves together into intricately woven phrases and paragraphs on the page before his eyes, even if his intentions were only to distract himself from reality. Sometimes, in order to be more productive with what he was supposed to be writing, he needed to take a step back and write something that wasn't directly related to his novels. Over the years, he had written hundreds of letters, short stories, and drabbles. Some were good; most of them weren't. But the quality didn't matter, as long as he wrote.

His current problem, however, wasn't lack of inspiration. Since he met Kate Beckett, words had flowed freely from his brain, and even more so after they finally got married and he got to spend all of his time with her.

No, his issue this time was how completely bored his own book was making him. It was always the same process- he came up with an idea, developed it, and drafted it. Then, when all the pieces were in place, he started to write the narrative, embellishing it with details to give the stories that depth that made them "book material," as Gina put it. That was the hardest part for him, because it soon turned into routine, almost a chore: reading and rereading his own words, reworking and rearranging them, to complete the puzzle. Over time, the process lost that creative quality, which was the most attractive thing about writing to him.

Usually, his bouts of writer's block coincided with the pressure from Black Pawn to finish the book in question as soon as possible, which created a new source of stress for Castle. And he loathed feeling rushed. He wrote to feel free and invincible, not to be a machine that produced one or two books per year, full of content but devoid of feeling and passion.

And that's why he had his blue notebook. It was filled with writings that he'd never dare to send to Black Pawn to be published; things that were meant for his eyes only. At first, he'd simply written character sketches, describing their physical attributes and qualities in addition to outlining their backstories. Eventually, he stopped outlining and started writing everything out as if it were a story, making his characters live new adventures and building a whole new world for them.

Some of those stories were really short; just glimpses of Nikki's life, hopes, and dreams. Others were longer, like the ones relating the adventures of Jameson Rook as a war journalist, for example. He could write whatever he wanted in this notebook; anything about Nikki, Rook, or his other characters that would help him understand them better.

The genre of his short stories varied, depending on his mood as he was writing. As a result, snippets of Nook's (he loved that shipper name) domestic life were tangled with epic tales of the detective's -and her tag-along's- heroism.

Castle finally realized that he didn't want to keep these stories to himself; yes, they weren't things that Black Pawn would publish, nor were they important to the plots of his novels, but they would help his readers better understand his characters nonetheless. So he created a profile on a website meant for sharing fan-written stories- under a pseudonym, of course- and began to publish them. The proper term for that was "fanfiction." He wasn't a fan, per se, but, given that he was completely anonymous on the site, no one would ever know the profile belonged to him.

That night, in the fanfiction universe, Nikki and Rook, along with Roach, were investigating a mafia ring- a thrilling case complete with extortion, death threats, and a little bit of romance. In the end, they were able to ruse the mobster by making him believe that one of his "business associates" was speaking with the cops.

Satisfied with the ending, he published the story and went to make dinner, placing his phone on the counter next to him. Soon enough, its screen soon lit up with a review alert. That was his favorite part- the responses from his readers. When he published a novel, he got reviews from publishing companies, newspapers, reporters, and the like, but he never got direct responses from his readers like he did with his fanfiction, and their reactions were always fun to see. Sometimes, readers complimented him for his "authenticity," claiming that he sounded "just like Castle himself," which never failed to make him smile like a lunatic. Other times, they only gave him a handful of words, but he enjoyed that just as much.

However, some of the readers took the time to leave a message debating his plot choices and the characters' actions. Those were by far his favorite reviews. There was one reader in particular, who went by the username LadySackett, who was often harsh with him, but in a challenging way. She (at least he assumed it was a she, because of the nickname) always had something interesting to say about his approach on the cases and Nikki's inner thoughts, and it was delightful to chat with her. They had established a playful banter over the years, with him teasing her about being a fan, and her saying that he had too much ego for someone who didn't make a profit with his writing. It was all playful, though, and they didn't even know each other's names.

As usual, hers was the one of the first reviews to arrive. He stirred the pasta sauce as he read it, and couldn't help but chuckle.

" _Only you could have thought of something that cliché and make it sound genius."_

He debated as to whether to reply to her or not, but ultimately decided that making dinner for his wife should be his priority for now. Kate had just texted him to say she was on her way home, her cab caught up in rush hour traffic, and asked him about his writing. In all honesty, he couldn't say that he had made any progress, but at least he didn't feel smothered anymore.

Writing was his favorite form of therapy.

* * *

The next morning, he managed to write a solid chapter, so he saw no harm in joining his wife at the precinct for a couple of hours. The case they were investigating was a complicated one. The Irish mafia was involved, and it was always hell to make them talk. Thinking about the story he wrote the day before, he decided to suggest the same strategy Nikki had followed, only to be interrupted by Beckett.

"Maybe we could make Flannagan think that McEneany is talking to us." When she saw the raised brows of her coworkers, she shrugged. "Cliché, I know, but it could be-"

"Genius," Castle finished for her, without thinking.

That expression sounded familiar. Where had he heard that before? Wait… Was she really…? Could it be…? His eyes lit up with his realization.

Kate Beckett was LadySackett. His favorite reviewer was none other than his wife.

"No," he said in a low voice. "It's not possible…" He had to laugh at such a coincidence. The universe had a sense of humor, after all. He should had known. He knew there was something familiar about her!

He scanned Beckett's face for any sign of recognition, and saw her furrowed brow that must be matching his own. He observed her intently, until she snapped at him. "Castle! What's gotten into you?"

He shook his head, deciding that now wasn't the best time to share his discovery. Beckett let it go, thankfully, focusing back on the whiteboard and ignoring Ryan and Espo's inquisitive looks.

Castle stood there, looking at the board without registering any detail, trying to come up with the perfect way to reveal his double identity to Beckett, until an idea came to mind. One thing was for sure: she would never hear the end of this.

* * *

That night, when Beckett climbed into bed, a blue notebook adorned with a ribbon rested on her pillow, along with a note.

" _To LadySackett, with all my love._

 _Because a handful of books could never begin to express_

 _how much you have inspired me._

 _\- RookieWriter"_

* * *

 _ **Tumblr** : seriestherapy_

 _ **Twitter** : SeriesTherapy_


	5. A Reminder

**A Reminder**

The door of her apartment closes after him, and he leans against it for a moment to regain his composure. The look she gave him while he held her hand keeps replaying on his closed eyelids, the hesitancy and the affection swirling in her eyes almost too much to bear. That's why he broke contact with her, to prevent himself from doing something they would both regret later.

He thought it would be a good idea to share Royal's custody for the day. He had always wanted a dog, so it was great being able to have one, even for such a short period of time. And it had the advantage of needing to go to Beckett's apartment so she could take over their dog-sitting duties.

What he hadn't taken into account was the overwhelming rush of adrenaline that always came when he was alone with her in her home. It wasn't the first time, of course— just a few weeks back, he had gone to her place to convince her to partake in a ghost hunting expedition with him. But every time, the intimacy of seeing her in her domestic attire, so carefree and relaxed, gets to him. It's no different tonight.

He still doesn't know what possessed him to reach for her hand and draw small circles with his thumb on her skin, but he knows that the memory will probably plague his dreams for weeks on end.

And the way she said his name... In that moment, it felt like a warning, a way to express her desire to be left alone. It was his cue to abandon the apartment, but now, in the solitude of the hallway, her breathless admonition is stuck in his ears, making him question the real meaning behind it. In fact, the more he stands there, with his back against the cool surface of her door, the more he's convinced that there was more to it.

So, before he can lose his nerve, he turns on his heel and faces the entrance of her apartment. He pauses for a second and takes a deep breath, already feeling his resolve slip away. Before he can back away completely, he pushes the door open, foregoing the knocking altogether, fully aware that she hasn't had the time to lock it yet.

He strides purposefully inside the apartment and opens his mouth, ready to call her name. However, what he sees there stops him in his tracks. In front of him, Beckett is sitting on the couch, Royal at her side, licking her face enthusiastically while she laughs. The happiness and beauty of Beckett makes his heart burst with joy, and he knows that he won't say anything to disturb the moment. Not today. He doesn't want to be responsible for the disappearance of that bright smile on her face, so he reaches for his phone instead.

Without saying a word, he snaps a picture and retreats in silence. If she wasn't so caught up in her moment with Royal, she would have heard him, he's sure. So before she can discover him, he leaves.

Once again, he stops outside her door; this time to observe the picture he's just taken. The joy is evident on her face, and she looks younger, just a happy girl, no trace of the badass detective.

That's the Kate Beckett he loves. And she's worth the wait.

* * *

Years later, that's the picture of her he chooses to have in his office. He had to endure a lot of scolding- and eventually, teasing- from Beckett for his antics that day, but he still framed the picture and placed it behind his chair, so he would only need to look over his shoulder to see it. He found that it's a great inspiration for when he's blocked. That way, it can serve as a reminder that no matter how frustrated he is about his life, he still has someone to brighten his days.

* * *

 _Thank you to acertainzest for helping me with this little ficlet :)_


	6. The Partners' Code

**The Partners' Code**

* * *

Beckett wakes up with a jolt and sits up straight in her bed, the pounding in her head proof enough that the last shot of vodka had been a bad idea. She hadn't had that much to drink since before she was shot, and she's paying the price for it now.

She gets up and starts the shower, detouring to get a glass of water while she waits for the water to warm up. Snippets of last night's celebration run through her mind, filling her heart with joy: Ryan's face while he watched his bride walk down the aisle towards him, the newlyweds' first dance, getting a drink with Lanie, bickering with Espo, laughing with Castle... The writer had turned out to be the best plus one she had ever taken to a wedding. He had been polite, charming and sweet from the moment he offered her his arm to walk her inside the church, to the goodbye kiss he had planted on her cheek.

She can't help the smile that takes residence on her face while she proceeds with her morning ritual, performing the tasks almost on autopilot, overwhelmed by memories of what had been the best night she's had in months.

Absentmindedly, she swallows a couple of Advils for the headache and sets the glass of water down in the sink, when one particular memory hits her with the force of a freight train.

No. There's no way... She couldn't have said that... Her mind has to be playing tricks on her.

But, as hazy as her recollections were, deep down she knows that the memory rings true. She has to make sure it happened the way she remembers it. She briefly ponders about calling Castle, but he was too close, she can't do it. That only leaves one alternative.

Lifting her phone with trembling hands, she presses the call button. It only takes a moment for the call to go through, and a hoarse voice greets her from the other side of the line.

"Girl, I'm gonna kill you. Do you have any idea of what time it is?"

"Sorry, Lanie," she tries to placate her friend. "I needed to ask you a question about last night."

The melodious laugh of the other woman rings through the earpiece for a moment, and Beckett can only groan in response.

"So," her friend finally says, "do you remember?"

* * *

 _Twelve hours earlier_

The party was still in full swing, the dance floor packed with sweaty people moving to the beat of the music, but Beckett and her closest friends weren't among them. After several hours of dancing, the gang -Castle, Beckett, Esposito and Lanie- retreated to their table to take a breather, and soon, they were joined by the groom and bride themselves. Castle's arm had found its way to the back of Beckett's chair a few minutes ago, and the writer and Esposito were enthusiastically firing double-entendres at the newlyweds, apparently in a competition about who could make Ryan blush harder.

"Bro, when are you going to make me an uncle?" asked Esposito.

"Jeez, Espo," Beckett jumped to Ryan's defense. "They've been married for like ten hours, leave them be!"

"I'm just saying, I'm willing to bet we're going to meet Javier Ryan before the end of the year."

"Javier Ryan?" questioned the Irish detective.

"Of course. That's going to be his name."

"Ehm... no, it's not," Ryan refused.

"Come on, bro! It's standard protocol to name your baby after your partner."

"Since when?"

"It's on the NYPD's regulations."

They kept bantering back and forth while Jenny chatted animatedly with Lanie, who was inching her fingers towards Espo's glass, keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't realize she was taking his glass away.

"That's an interesting rule," a deep voice murmured next to Beckett's ear. She jumped and turned to see Castle's dopey grin only inches away from her face. The writer had had at least as much to drink as she had, and they were both relaxed and content in their little bubble.

"You know that's not a real rule, Castle," she slurred, tripping over her own words.

"Still... Rick Beckett. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

She pretended to think for a moment.

"And here I was," she said, inching closer to him, licking her lips while her eyes traveled to his mouth, the alcohol running through her veins making her bolder, "thinking that you'd prefer my kids to have your last name, Castle."

His eyes widened in shock, and his arm slipped from the back of her chair, making him stumble forward, spluttering as he gasped for air.

She laughed for a moment, patting his back until she noticed the sudden silence around her. Turning around, she found all her friends staring at her like they had seen a ghost.

"What?" she asked, raising her brow in challenge, and the others quickly resumed their respective conversations, clearly intimidated by her glare.

The writer had recovered by then and he stood up, offering her his hand.

"Wanna dance?" he asked, and their night kept on like nothing had happened.

* * *

 _Present day_

The ding of the elevator signaling her arrival to the homicide floor takes her by surprise, and she scolds herself for her childish behavior. It has been two days since that ill-advised comment, and surely, Castle wouldn't remember it. After all, he had had a lot of drinks that night.

She makes her way to her desk, nodding politely at the officers and detectives she crosses paths with, and plops down onto her chair, turning the computer on in a practiced move.

Castle arrives only ten minutes after she does, a testament to how in tune they are with each other. They seem to have reached a new level in their relationship, one in which they can sense the other's presence when they enter a room. That ability fails her today, though; the appearance of a warm cup of coffee in front of her almost making her gasp in surprise.

She takes the offered item and turns to her left, smiling at the sight of the writer looking so at home in his old and battered chair.

"Hey," he greets, but it's tentative, shy, and she wonders if he remembers. His next words confirm her suspicion. "How was the hangover? Still recuperating?"

"It wasn't too bad, I guess I didn't drink that much, after all," she shrugs. "Yours?"

"Good," he answers. "I had a great time at the wedding."

"Me too," she says, the smile threatening to split her face in half.

"So," he begins, and clears his throat before continuing, "do you remember much of that night?"

The question is an echo of a distant memory from a different time, of a grim meeting in a hospital, but unlike that day, this time she feels the need to give him some reassurance.

"Yes, Castle, I remember," she states calmly, smiling, and she watches as he arches his eyebrows in surprise, so they rise up almost to his hairline. It's as though he hadn't expected her to admit it, and it's satisfying to know that she can still surprise him sometimes.

She gets a call from dispatch about a fresh victim before he can respond. She rises from her chair and gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze in passing, before she turns to Castle, still immobile and staring dumbfounded into empty space.

"You coming, Castle?"

* * *

 _Beta work by Griever11._


End file.
